• the antithesis
    of everything i said
    i wanted
    please let me know
    before you dive from
    the cliffs amidst the plumeria
    please tell me that late
    at night
    when you are in your tent
    clutching stained letters
    you think only about me

  • Barren
    the empty land
    black rocks
    our car driving
    racing fast
    towards your antiquated city
    here we are
    here we are
    we can never come back
    soak it in, breathe it all in
    tell me you want me to come back
    your hands my lips
    you pull me towards you
    the rocks crumble
    the train whistle sounds

  • seclusion, they gave him blue cotton pants and a heavy door with one window and told him no to the snickers bar he asked for
    no to the caffeine
    the shoe laces
    the extra blanket
    no to anything that could be tied or hung or sharp or uplifting

  • Your eyes were casting their lowered gaze onto me. I couldn’t help but dive head first into the warm water. I touched your shoulders; the strength of waves. I touched your hips and your sides and I looked to your hands covered with small scars and I hoped to be your baptismal water.

  • It was uncomfortable. The intense fear that I was catapulting myself into something new. A month in Ghana. I had been to Africa before but Morocco seemed altogether different than the sub-saharan. It seemed more solid, stable. Ghana seemed as if anything could happen at any time, as if freedom simply poured from its very core.

  • The heat was sweltering as we lowered our bodies out from the fire escape. I had everything I owned in a small pack strapped to my back. When I reached the edge I looked back and saw him standing in our kitchen looking over the counter tops with one last longing look. “C’mon Bill, we ought to be going.” He turned his head and with a small, sad…[Read more]